


Living Life Cat-Adjacent

by bellygunnr



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Cat Ears, Catboy Barney Calhoun, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Grooming, M/M, Teleportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: That teleportation accident from a couple years back has lasting consequences. You know, because Calhoun's a catboy now. And has to deal with all that entails.This will be continued via requests. Can be read as either romantic or platonic.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun & Alyx Vance, Barney Calhoun & Eli Vance, Barney Calhoun & Gordon Freeman, Barney Calhoun & Isaac Kleiner
Comments: 50
Kudos: 259





	1. Warp

Barney sits on the top of an overturned barrel as he watches Drs. Kleiner and Vance meander around the lab, a cat curled up in his lap. He runs his hands through her fur idly, lost in the almost-quiet hubbub of people working diligently. Above him, Alyx Vance was making the finishing touches on a tall, cylindrical machine, parallel to another tube identical to it. His stomach flips anxiously.

Teleporters. They’d been working on these things for years now, but this was the first model prepared to transport a human form. In this day and age, at least.

The cat meows up at him, hoarse and squeaky. She’s always sounded like that-- like someone was stepping on her vocal chords, unless she was screaming, which she did often. He was glad she wasn’t doing it right now, though.

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he says quietly. “It’s not you in the barrel today. It’s me.”

He looks back up to the teleporter. It’s more polished than the science team’s last prototype, full of currently-inert moving parts and indicator lights. Through the slats, he watches Alyx climb down, jumping the last couple feet to the ground. Her boots impacted with a loud snap. He and the cat startled in tandem.

“That should be it! We can power these bad boys up whenever they’re ready to go,” Alyx says, waving a hand at Eli. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“With your eye on the mechanics, so do I, Alyx,” Eli replies.

“As do I! The benefits of this will be incalculable to the Resistance, should it work. And I do have a feeling it will,” Kleiner says earnestly.

Barney watches them talk in uncharacteristic silence. He wasn’t an anxious guy, but his track record with teleportation wasn’t very promising. What if he got stuck in another… harmonic reflux thing again? Could they get him out?

“What do you think, darlin’?” Barney asks of the cat, scritching behind her ear.

She squeaks, stretching out in his lap, but makes no further comment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he sighs.

“Barney! I think we’re just about ready to start the test. Would you be so kind…?” Kleiner calls for him, trailing off to gesture at the switches bolted to the wall. “We’ll be starting you in the platform closest to me.”

He leaps down from his makeshift seat, taking care to scoop the cat into his arms. With great care, he settles her back onto the barrel, watching her for a long moment while she rolls over and gets comfortable. She was a big cat, white and fluffy all over except for two black spots above her eyes, giving her a permanent scowl. He jokingly called her Magnusson, though he’d been reluctant to give her a more permanent name. He rubs under her chin before shifting away.

The chassis containing the power outlets was rusty and dented in places, comprised of several different parts of machinery. That meant several of the outlets were misaligned, but that posed little issue when each corresponding plug was bigger than his hand. He rolls one such plug between his hands, steadying himself on the weight before shoving it into its slot.

“Nervous, Barn? Me, too.”

Alyx steps into the space beside him, snapping the rest of the cables into place. She pulls the safety off of the power switch on the opposite end of the array.

“Me? Nervous? Nah,” Barney scoffs, but he squeezes her shoulder, eyes softening. “This’ll be a breeze.”

“Now, Barney, I know you’re worried, but we really don’t have time to waste…”

He rolls his shoulders and flashes Alyx the most brilliant smile he can manage before turning to face the platform. The barrel, his mind supplied, thinking darkly of test chambers and a different life. It was something of a marvel that science had continued to swell and leap while life otherwise fell apart around them, but that was just humanity, wasn’t it? And the finest examples of humanity were sitting right here in this lab.

Nothing for it then, when you put it like that.

Barney climbs up into the platform. It shakes slightly, swaying with his weight, but stabilizes after a moment. It was a little claustrophobic in here, wasn’t it? Small. His shoulders only had some six inches of clearance on either side. Above his head, he gauged around eight inches, which was okay but made his gut do something funny. Fear? His instincts were rattling all over the place.

“I dunno about this one, Doc,” Barney says loudly, twisting to catch Eli’s eye.

“We should be ready. Turning on the teleporter now…” Eli says at the exact same time, hands flying over the console board.

Instantly, the hum of electricity surrounds him, filling his ears with the sound. His hands clench into fists as the barrel jumps to life underneath him, vibrating so intensely that his bones shake, reverberating individually in his teeth. He feels a wind kick up around him, the rest of the teleporter answering the call, all moving parts and strobing lights. This was so much worse than his first experience— this was slow, deliberate, stripped of all alien efficiency that had accompanied the glowing orbs of old.

He could feel his skin tingle and burn with the eruption of goosebumps. Something like a yelp left him as, at the junction of skull and spine, he feels something latch on and pull, yanking him back through the world. After that, all sensation abandons him, air wrested from his lungs, power separated from his limbs.

“Get that darn cat out of here!” is the last thing he hears before it all goes dark.

* * *

_“I’ve been looking for hours for that cat… I don’t think it’s here anymore.”_

_“Could you look again? Hell, we could even use Lamarr to find her.”_

_“And deal with that mess again? I don’t think so.”_

_“That cat hates Lamarr almost as much as Barney. Please don’t.”_

_“Do we even need to look…? I mean, just look at him…”_

Sensation was coming back real slow, like molasses through a fine sieve. Pins and needles stab into his arm where blood is just starting to flow again, running all across his limbs and even up and down his neck, swarming his scalp. He tries to crack open his eyes and groans in pain, assaulted by a bright wave of light. The voices he was hearing immediately quieted.

That filled him with more dread than the weird pain in his lower back, which he only notices as he forces himself to sit up. Did he fall or something? What had he been doing again…?

Right. Teleportation.

“Wh-- what happened? What’re y’all lookin’ at me like that for?” Barney says, voice scratchy and rough. He clears his throat a couple times, frowning at how weird it feels.

He rubs his eyes as he tries to look around himself. There was only one light, but it just seemed so much brighter than usual. Around him, Vance, Kleiner, and Alyx were standing in a shaggy half-circle, blocking one of two entrances out of here. That makes something funny race down his spine. Something slaps the bed behind him.

He whips around, expecting Lamarr or the cat, but there’s nothing there.

Except for… was that a rope? He grabs it, hissing in fear when it reads as fuzzy and warm. Definitely not a rope. And why the hell could he feel it? He squeezes it.

It writhes in his hands. And he could feel it. The muscles spasming in his back, the unpleasant sensation of it being clutched, everything-- this rope-- this thing-- was attached to him.

“Is this a fucking tail?” Barney yelps eloquently, snapping his head around to glare at everyone. “Guys? What the hell happened?”

Alyx cringes, grabbing a hand mirror from a bedside table. She looks apologetic as she flips it around to face Barney-- though the glass was cracked, his reflection was clean. He stares at it with incomprehension at first.

Then he starts taking stock. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and stubble quickly shadowing his jaw, but that was normal. There was still a scar across his cheek. Brown eyes with the green chips, check. Wait, his pupils were different. Slit pupils. Not normal. Hair? He rakes his hands through his hair, noting the slightly different texture, and--

his fingers catch on something fleshy and strange. He grabs onto them, only to hiss and twist at the pain that elicits.

Bringing his hands away, he stares back into the mirror. Two triangle-shaped… ears… were flattened against his skull. Now that he was looking more closely, he could see that his nose had changed as well, damp and pink.

“What the hell did y’all do to me?” Barney demands, a growl in his throat.

“It was an accident,” Eli says immediately, hands up. “Ah… the cat leapt into the teleporter around the same time your body started to shift! We haven’t been able to find the cat, but, well. We’re still looking.”

“I’m willing to bet anything that that cat is now part of you, dear Barney!” Kleiner adds.

Barney rounds on him, ears pressed flat to his skull, tail puffed out. All of these sensations were strange, foreign, unsettling but he couldn’t stop any of them, his body responding to his emotions with a new acuity. He tried to spit words, but all that came out was another low growl.

“Not uh, helping your case there, Barn,” Alyx says apologetically. She flips the mirror back onto the bedside table.

Barney immediately reaches over to swat it off the table. It hits the ground with a satisfying clatter that still sends him scrambling to the opposite end of the bed, offended by the consequences of his own actions. He shoots a glare at Alyx when she bursts into surprised laughter.

“Oh, God, Barney! What was that for?”

“I don’t know! Why’d I do that?”

He fights the urge to swipe the mirror once again as Alyx picks it up. She sets it very carefully onto the table, shooting Barney a warning look, ruined only by leftover giggles.

“Is there a way to… to fix this? Reverse this?” Barney asks, drooping suddenly. “I don’t-- I’m not a huge fan of all this.”

“We’ll do everything we can,” Eli says, and steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise. How are you feeling?”

Barney leans into the touch. At least he had lived through the teleport-- he’d seen experiments go far, far worse while acting as Kleiner’s security just a year back. Out of all possible scenarios, this wasn’t the ideal, but he was alive.

Good enough. Though apparently he’d been knocked out or something. Oh, well. He was alive, and he says as much, looking at Eli with a deep frown.

“I know, son,” he sighs. “We’ve got dinner put aside for you. Feel good enough to get up and goin’?”

Barney nods. He lifts himself off the bed, face scrunching up as he feels his tail move through the air, independent of him. What did cats use their tails for? Balance? He didn’t feel anymore balanced than normal. It twitches back and forth as he takes a step forward, tentatively approaching the door that led back to the lab.

“Things feel real weird,” Barney says honestly, frowning. “M’not responsible for whatever the hell happens, you got that?”

* * *

A lot of time certainly had passed since the teleportation test. The sun was setting outside, casting the lab in an orange haze, filling the cluttered space with spiderwebs of shadows. Barney finds himself stuck in place, eyes flicking around the entire room, disturbed by how much more he was seeing. His face ached around his eyes as he struggled to take in everything, new muscles working to operate new eyes. The scent of dust and ozone was thick on his tongue, coating his mouth, but through that he could detect something vile-- the sickly sour-sweet notes of rotting meat.

Headcrab, his mind supplies, and he stalks forward, scanning the lab intently. He tracks the scent with flared nostrils and an open mouth all the way from the door to a stuffed filing cabinet. Some part of his brain recognized this cabinet-- it was a makeshift kennel for Lamarr, but that wasn’t important right now. There was a headcrab here and that was bad.

He approaches it cautiously, unaware of the audience behind him. He peeks into one of the drawers, only to leap back with a yowl as something fleshy and round leaps out of it.

“Lamarr! There you are!” Kleiner cries from behind him. “Come to me!”

Barney whirls around to hiss and spit at the headcrab as she hits the ground with a flop. She raises her talons threateningly at Barney, all wiggling feelers and angry screeching, which he only keeps hissing at. He could feel every single hair on his body standing on end, tail lashing angrily.

“Lamarr!” Kleiner says again, voice serious. “Come here!”

Surprisingly, the headcrab does back down, scuttling on over to Kleiner. She leaps into his arms to be cradled.

“Gnarly threat display, Barney. You’re gonna send the Combine runnin’ for the hills like that!”

He jumps in surprise as Alyx sneaks up on him, holding a plate of food. His stomach growls in response, but he stands there dumbly, trying to sort out exactly how he should be reacting. There was a lot of different… input that he was having to sort through.

“I better,” he grumbles, reaching for the food. “Cat better be worth somethin’ after puttin’ me through all this.”

They sit down at a table tucked away in the corner. The food’s pretty standard-- Combine rations, canned vegetables, seared Headcrab. He sniffs at the latter with a newfound interest. Dead headcrab smelled better than living headcrab.

He attacks the tough meat first, surprised at the ease in which it separates. Huh. Were those fangs? He runs his tongue across his teeth, noting the presence of significantly larger canines. Neat.

For the most part.

“How is it?” Alyx asks, eyebrow raised. She looks vaguely impressed.

“It’s-- it’s uh, good?” Barney says questioningly. He moves onto the rest of the food.

It all tastes very, very different.

“I ain’t tryin’ to be weird, you know,” he says, setting his fork down.

“I know, Barney. I’m sorry for laughing-- it’s just, your face is pulling a lot of funny expressions, and you’re usually so like, composed? It’s weird seeing you off your game. I’m sure Dad and Kleiner will get this sorted out in no time…”

* * *

That night, Barney spends a lot of time in his cot, hands kneading the fabric with the use of his newfound claws. He keeps rubbing his face against the hard edge of his bed, the supports creaking as he sprawls out and writhes, less trying to get comfortable than he is just trying to make sure it was his. Once satisfied, he curls back up, a rippling-rumbling purr radiating from his chest.

He could panic and worry later. Right now, it was time to rest. He’s had a very, very long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks went by with Calhoun caught in his… altered… state. Eli and Isaac worked themselves past the point of exhaustion to try and undo what had been done, but there was little headway to be made, in addition to delays caused by the focal point of their efforts. It was very hard to catproof anything when the cat was 5’8”, 200 pounds, and apparently, determined to be affectionate.

Eli was the object of his affections now. He watches Calhoun approach out of the corner of his eye, silent steps and intent eyes, his pencil scratching half-coherently across the page. Was it an equation he had been working on? Or was he looking at the teleport schemes? He counted down, timing his breaths. 3, 2, 1…

Bonk.

Calhoun plopped his chin atop Eli’s head, nuzzling into what little hair he had left. He dragged his cheek against his head with enough force to sway the chair, so Eli just set his things down and let it happen.

“You’ve been up since three in the morning, sir,” Barney says from overhead, voice vibrating with a purr. “You need to get to bed before Kleiner worries.”

“Izzy and I are trying to find a solution as fast as possible. I assure you our nocturnal schedules are deliberate, Barn,” Eli says, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

Barney retreats, scratching the back of his head. Eli’s heart breaks to see the turmoil so plainly displayed, embarrassment, shame, and confusion evident in the worry lines. Even his tail was drooped, brushing the ground.

“You know this isn’t your fault, Barney,” Eli says gently.

“I dislike seein’ y’all work yourselves like this just for me, though,” Barney says, meeting his gaze. “You know… it’s alright if you guys can’t fix it, too. I know I raised hell for a bit there but, as far as uh, accidents go, this ain’t the worst.”

Eli feels his shoulders twitch, but he keeps them squared and poised. This felt like an admission of defeat, or perhaps resignation, uncharacteristic of Calhoun. Given the circumstances, however, he couldn’t really begrudge him that.

This was a very strange situation.

“We’re still going to try,” he says finally. “We owe you that much, Barney.”

Barney sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, the sense of exhaustion only building. It was like seeing a tiny fracture in a dam grow into a crack, and yet, nothing was coming through.

“Have you slept at all, Barney?” Eli continues to press.

“I uh-- it’s been hard for me to sleep at night,” Barney admits. “So I’ve been- ha- catnapping throughout the day. And doing security sweeps at night.”

Well, that explained that. Eli had been wondering where Barney would disappear to every couple hours.

“Well, why don’t we try and get some rest now?” Eli says, standing up. He leaves his work where it was, back popping as he stretches out. “Izzy will be up soon. I know Alyx is going to be back around noon.”

He continues filling Barney in with various details as they pick their way back to the shared sleep-room they all used. Chatter eases both their minds even long after they lay down, punctuated by purring though it was.

* * *

Living life cat-adjacent wasn’t the most horrible outcome Barney Calhoun has ever experienced. He’s been in far worse accidents, including brush-ups with headcrabs, brawls with striders, and a terrifying clash with a chopper that took a chunk out of his arm. He was still very happy to have just lived through the accident. Sure, they never found the cat, and he hated everyone’s “working theory” about what happened to the cat, but again.

There were far worse things.

Weird and a little hard to think about was a glimmering alternative at this point.

Though even that was quickly outshined by one thought-dead Gordon Freeman, standing shaking and scared in a CP interrogation room, as scrawny and pale as the day he last saw him. Maybe a little more haggard, smelling a little weird, with an all too familiar thousand-yard stare but…

_Hey, Gordon Freeman. About that beer I owe you…_

“You’ve got-- you’ve got something on your head,” Gordon says, his hands shaking as he signs. He looks more confused than scared. “Are those… cat ears?”

“Yeah- uh- that’s a long story,” Barney sighs. Why is that the first thing he noticed?

“Do we… have time for it?” Gordon asks, stepping forward, a look in his eyes.

Barney knows that look. That’s the can-I-touch-them look. He shakes his head firmly, baring his canines that, overtime, had grown to hang over his lip. He winces inwardly at the sheepish, embarrassed look Gordon affects.

“I don’t think so. I gotta get ya out of here before these assholes get suspicious, yeah? Take that back door—”

He’s interrupted by an incessant, obnoxious banging on the steel door leading out into the hall. Swearing, he takes Gordon by the shoulders and ushers him on.

“The civilians will help you. I’ll meet ya at Kleiner’s, okay?” Barney says into his ear. “I’m sorry about this.”

* * *

Gordon’s cradling a cup of hot tea between his hands when he sees Barney again. He looks up from the rim with wide, cautious eyes, rapidly taking in the differences between Barney now and the Barney in his brain. So much has changed, but he isn’t entirely sure why. Everyone’s decades older, with wounds and scars to match. A layer of secrecy cushions everything.

And Barney has … cat ears and a cat tail. Those are the two biggest differences aside from some lost weight, purple eye bags, and a limp on his left leg. Yet he moves with an excited springiness in his step upon seeing Gordon, practically skipping over to him.

He has no time to react as Barney scoops him up into a hug, their faces mashed together. Barney’s face is a funny texture-- are those whiskers?-- and there’s a deep vibrating sound coming from him. Is he purring?

Barney was _purring._

“I’ve missed you so much, buddy!” Barney laughs.

He sets Gordon down reluctantly, but though the hug ends, the contact doesn’t. Gordon blinks in surprise as Barney pushes him back down into the chair. He feels something wet swipe across his scalp.

Gordon looks pleadingly at Kleiner. Unfortunately, his mentor-father figure just smiles, petting the top of his headcrab pet. Lamarr, had he called it? God.

What the fuck had gone on?

“We’ve gotta fix this,” Barney says, hands still firmly grasping Gordon’s shoulders. He has a decidedly rough tongue. It rasps against the back of Gordon’s head, sending shivers down his spine.

Gordon settles deeper in the chair, confused and chagrined. Barney was grooming him. This cat stuff seemed to run pretty deep.

“Finally get rid of that ponytail?”

Huh? Gordon tentatively reaches up, patting at his neck. Huh. He thought something was off about his hair. When did it get cut? Maybe… maybe during his mad dash here? Black Mesa? A lot had happened in Black Mesa.

“H,” Gordon says.

Sharp points were starting to dig into Gordon’s shoulders, around the same time Barney started to massage the muscle there. Kneading, his brain supplies. Bread kneading was already painful when a normal-sized cat did it, but this felt like little headcrab bites.

He wasn’t gonna stop him though. It felt… good? In a way. At this point, any non-hostile touch would be happily accepted. And Barney was the least hostile man he’d ever met, even if he was starting to chew on the longer fringes of his hair. He cuts another pleading look at Kleiner.

Lamarr looked as pleased as a headcrab could, getting petted.

Gordon stretches a hand up to Barney, reaching to scratch his cheek. He snatches his hand away when he feels the snip of sharp teeth.

* * *

The grooming doesn’t stop even after they go to bed. In a fit of irritation, Gordon grasps the back of Barney’s neck with a tight, firm hand, pulling at what was surely a scruff. Almost immediately, Barney goes limp beside him, looking absolutely upset.

Gordon releases him after a moment, feeling guilty, but hoping it got the message across. He watches Barney get his bearings back, sinking into the lumpy depths of the mattress, ears drooping. His tail hits the bed in an off-beat.

“I just missed you,” Barney says, looking up with pleading eyes that flashed in the light. “And you smell weird. Like… like… It’s hard to pinpoint. Trying to get rid of it. Sorry, that’s a habit I’ve been tryin’ to kick but it’s too ingrained in what makes me feel safe. Ya know?”

Gordon nods, expression softening. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Barney’s. He didn’t really know, but he remembered enough about cats that he could make a few educated guesses. The scientist in him was fascinated, but this wasn’t the time for the cold, analytical approach of science.

This was a reunion between friends.

Barney’s eyes cross, half-lidded and squinty, as he tries to lick at Gordon’s goatee. Short, raspy nibble-bites that were, at this point, just more grooming, coupled with cheek-rubs and forehead bonks.

“Mmmmmmgoodnight,” Barney slurs, voice shaking with a purr. “Go _rrrr_ don…”


	3. combine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> combine bullies barney, some other cat shenanigans. the first chunk might be a little sensitive.

Break.

Civil Protection units got twenty-five minute breaks every four hours where they could lower their masks and hoods and generally, fuck off from Overwatch supervision for a temporary, indeterminate amount of time. It always varied, but Barney had long since averaged out the time to be around fifteen minutes when things were loose, and five when they were tight. Today was a fifteen-er, and boy, was he glad for it.

He rakes his fingers through his hair as soon as the hood and mask come down, sighing with relief. He rubs at his aching ears, massaging at the surrounding muscle, already dreading when he’d have to smash them back down. Once most of the pain is gone, he reaches down to yank his tail out from his pants, taking time to smooth out the fur.

“I don’t see why you just don’t cut holes in the damn suit, Keaton,” a voice says from behind.

Barney twists around, tail switching. “Tell me where that’s a good idea, buddy.”

Much to his chagrin, the cop only responds by giving him a heavy-handed pat on the head. His ears twitch at the harsh sound of digitized breathing.

“It’s not. Makes it easier to do this, though,” the cop snorts. Then they finally pull off their mask, revealing the gaunt complexion of one Nolan. “Come on, cat-boy. I hear one of the boys got a sniper’s laser sight just for you. You gonna let it go to waste?”

Barney curls his lip, flashing his teeth. “Go to hell.”

Nolan grabs one of his ears and pulls, drawing out a sharp hiss. He has to tighten his jaw and clench his fists, eyes sliding to the floor, anger brimming beneath his skin.

“Come on, is that any way to talk to your superior, Keaton? I even got us an hour’s clearance to play with your dumbass. Let’s go,” Nolan says, tone not leaving any room for rebellion.

Barney turns on his heel and walks the opposite direction.

-

Lamarr was sitting perched atop a tower of scrap and wood and broken machines. Barney was staring up at her with wide, wide eyes, pupils shrunk to narrow slits, his tail flicking back and forth in rhythmic swipes. His head jerks back and forth according to the headcrab’s minute movements, though his eyes could be seen wandering on a path all their own, gleaning all they could from the rusty pile.

Gordon watches this with open fascination, this being his first time witnessing such a behavior.

“The first time we saw him do this it was while running from the Combine,” Alyx says, voice a hushed whisper. “He was behind me, and all of a sudden he was above me. Just went for it.”

He raises his eyebrows, about to reply when Barney, indeed, just goes for it. He grabs Alyx’s shoulder, jaw dropping at the height-- well over six feet off the ground and onto a precarious metal edge sticking out of the tower. Without stopping, Barney starts to scramble his way further up, clearly following a predetermined path.

“There he goes!” Alyx laughs. “Oh, there goes Lamarr.”

Gordon watches the headcrab startle at the noise her impending doom is making, then jump down. To his horror, Barney instantly aborts from his climb to jump after her, claws extended and tail flagging. From his kick, chunks of scrap clatter to the ground, causing some of the tower to slide out from under itself.

“Doesn’t he have a bad leg?” Gordon asks, looking horrified.

“I mean, yeah, but you try telling him what to do, Gordon,” Alyx says, gesturing at Barney.

Barney, for his part, had landed quite gracefully, though seemed paralyzed in place. When he starts moving again, it’s clearly with a limp, the cat fugue state drained out of him. Gordon hurries over to him without really thinking about it.

“Awh, don’t worry about me,” Barney says, waving him off before he can get close. “I just landed- a little funny, s’all. I’ll walk it off.”

Gordon frowns, crossing his arms across his chest. He follows several steps behind Barney as he starts to limp back to the compound.

* * *

As it turns out, a good way to encourage Barney into getting medical attention was to gently, gently scratch under his chin, usually by distracting him with a feigned kiss. Gordon eases him down onto the medical bed now, still scratching lightly at his stubbly chin, noting the tufts of fur growing like sideburns down his cheeks. He opens his palm up so that Barney can rub his cheek against it, throat rumbling with sputtering purrs. Beside him, a Vort doctor starts to tend to his leg.

With his free hand, Gordon reaches to scratch behind Barney’s ears, smiling when he tries to shove himself closer. The purring was stronger now, deep and throaty, probably audible from the next room over. Above his head, Barney’s tail was curved into a loose hook.

“The Cathoun will find that he should rest,” the Vortigaunt says, stepping away from the two. “For, perhaps, a week.”

* * *

Gordon wakes up to the sensation of not being able to breathe. He reacts violently, lashing out with his arms and kicking out to reach over the bedside and grab his crowbar. That gets thrown out the window when he feels something wet touch his arm.

“Barney,” Gordon rasps. He twists to face the bed, equal parts terrified and relieved to see his mysterious intruder was Barney, even if his eyes were glowing in the dark and he was trying to bite his arm. “What the fuck?”

Barney bites down again before flopping down beside him, nonplussed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you were trying to kill me,” Gordon says, flopping down. “Well, you can stay here.”

Barney nestles into Gordon’s side, letting his head fall across his chest, humming softly. He makes a soft _mrrrp_ of surprise when Gordon pulls him up further so that he’s half-draped across his torso, hands splayed across his chest. Silently, Gordon starts to run his fingers through Barney’s thick hair, rubbing behind his ears.

Gordon watches his eyes flutter shut, a dopey smile crossing his face. A moment later, sharp claws are digging through his shirt, pricking his skin off and on as he starts to knead his chest. He has no choice but to keep petting the back of his head, teeth grit through the pain of his nipples being shredded.

* * *

The White Forest Lab had one fatal flaw-- it was full of sunlight. Barney had trouble sleeping by himself. And he liked the gentle ambiance that several working scientists provided. He waves a sleepy greeting at them, rubbing excess sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning, Barney. How was work?” Dr. Kleiner asks, still getting his desk in order.

Barney just yawns at him, scratching his neck. He flops down onto a bed-- or something approximating a bed. It was a cardboard nest intended for Lamarr but repurposed for the 200~ pound cat that was Barney Calhoun, the latter of whom occupied it the most. He angles himself toward Gordon’s desk, going slack.

“Me, too,” Kleiner says solemnly.

* * *

Later that day, Alyx found herself overwhelmed. A fight had broken out in the garage, a bad dream was still nipping at her heels, and D0G was needing a repair she didn’t quite have the parts for. All of that wouldn’t be so frustrating if people would just stop coming to her, demanding that she fix their problems, when really, it was beyond her scope and not her problem and--

and she had her hands over her ears, squeezing tightly, blocking out the chaotic hubbub that was White Forest at full tilt. She tries to focus on the pounding of her blood, the movement of her breathing, but neither of these things ground her. She power-walks down the hall, seeking somewhere quiet.

She bumps into something solid, which sends her leaping back, bristling and confused.

“Ah! Alyx-- I’ve been lookin’ all over for you. I can’t get it out of my head that you need somethin’.”

She blinks rapidly, slowly coming to terms that she just bumped into Barney.

“I don’t… need anything?” Alyx says, though it’s more of a question. “Woah, hey!”

Barney is pulling her into a hug before she can protest, all big arms and soft fuzz. She has to relax into it, chin on his head, because she was taller than him and had been for years. The hug is… unobtrusive, even if it wraps her up.

It does ease the tight ball of anxiety in her chest. With a sigh, she sinks against him, careful not to smash an ear.

“I guess I did need a hug,” she admits gently.

At her words, Barney starts to vibrate, shaking with a deep purr. He shoves his nose into her shoulder and tights his grip, tickling her ear with the sheer volume of the sound. She doesn’t know how long they stand there, wrapped up together, but by the time it’s over she’s forgotten what she was upset about.

“...Thanks, Barney,” Alyx murmurs, lifting her head.

“Of course, darrrrlin’,” Barney says, starting to pull back. His tail is curled high above his head. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to pepper in various requests into this one. Godspeed.
> 
> Barney uses a false identity in the CP called Keaton Rosenberg.


	4. sensory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> barney sensory cat issues. maybe some requests in here? can't remember

“Awh, don’t worry about it. You said all this stuff was supplies and all?”

Barney offers his bravest smile to the band of refugees that just arrived, the group clustered in a loose circle in the lobby. Some were still bringing in boxes, setting them down just beside the door as they came inside. It was making him feel a little cramped, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Even if the barrage of new scents and sounds were making him anxious, culminating in a prickling sensation that ran all the way down his arms and spine. 

“We’ll get it all sorted out, don’t you worry. What’s important is that y’all get your rooms-- best tell me now who’s staying together-- and get some food,” Barney continues, beckoning the people further in. His eyes flit between the faces, noting surprise and wariness in some. The scent of blood is stale but hangs around the group like a wraith, putting him on edge. “We have a clinic for the injured,” he adds, hopeful.

One refugee steps forward, bowing her head. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, covered by a beanie, and she looks exhausted. Around her arm a tattered medic’s band is wrapped, the red mark faded. She gestures at two people sat down behind her.

“We do have some injured. We got caught by some bullsquids on our way here, by the river. Oh, my name’s Hanna,” she starts.

Barney nods, relieved at finally finding the source. “Dmitri here can show you the way,” he says, waving said man on over.

He watches them for a long moment, ensuring that everything was going smoothly, ears pressed flat against his head. Some were already being led off to the dormitories, or disappearing down to the cafeteria, leaving the supplies behind to be organized later. The alien scent was strong-- unfamiliar people, strangers, wounded and tired, unknowns. He knew they weren’t dangerous but he still had to clamp his jaws shut against a hiss as one gets a little too close.

Taking a deep breath, he wades through the stragglers, keeping his eyes fixed on the truck parked outside. It was loud, stinking of gasoline, and leaking from the bottom. He waves at the driver to get their attention.

“Park that over there,” he calls, pointing at a muddy space further in the compound. “Hold on-- y’all leave anything in it?”

With his free hand, he gently stops another refugee, this one shorter than him and clean-shaven. They look at him in surprise, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Barney’s lashing, fluffed up tail.

“Uhhh,” they say eloquently. “Just-- just our weapons and munitions, Mr…”

“Call me Barney,” Barney says, nodding shortly. “Good. Thanks for that.”

He fixes them with a glare, pupils shrunk to slits, unable to stop his tail from waving wildly but maybe he can intimidate them into not grabbing at him. They turn a half-circle around each other before, finally, the man disengages, scurrying into the lobby.

As soon as they disappear, he sags, noting with distaste how tight his shirt feels, graying black fur puffed out from his frame. At least he’s come a long way from hiding from strangers-- that had been an interesting year or so. But, even if he had adapted, this shit was still exhausting.

* * *

After the supplies were sorted out and everyone arranged into rooms, Barney disappears inside his room, where he freezes up all over again. Instinct dictates to crawl under the bed and hide-- but experience told him he never fit under there, and it was awful trying. He glares at the neatly-made covers.

With stiff-legged steps that makes his poor knee twinge, he climbs onto his bed, pulling the blankets free. He pulls the fabric over his head and curls up, relishing in the presence that was him, the darkness, and the feeling of kneading the mattress.

It still takes him a long time to calm down.

* * *

D0G found that he had lots to think about, regarding Alyx’s friend, Barney Calhoun. He had two separate files dedicated to the man-- aptly entitled “Pre-Accident” and “Post-Accident,” each containing different but equally relevant information. He accessed the latter more often nowadays, cataloging all he could, even sometimes sharing his observations with the rest of his family. He’s not sure if Barney knows about the files, but then again, only Alyx and Eli are privy to his maintenance logs.

Oh, well. It was helpful to everyone he knew that he maintained these wells of information. Especially to Calhoun himself.

He watches the man now, facial fins twitching every now and again as he continually measures the rising decibel level in the cafeteria, Alyx’s hand petting the soft part of his neck. With each uptick of the meter, Barney’s agitation grew, manifesting in flattened ears and a flicking tail, eyes focused on his food. He’d started to shift to the opposite end of the table as well, though D0G couldn’t decipher if that was a conscious or subconscious behavior.

Either way, he was pretty sure he knew how to solve both of these problems. With a whirring, he pushes himself upright, shuffling back so that Barney was facing away from him with several feet of space.

With that complete, he flares out his facial fins, the steel petals rotating thrice before contracting, closing around his single eye until only a pinprick of light shone. An electrical hum fills the air as he switches on his flashlight, generating a beam of red light, showing up as a single dot by Barney’s shoulder. Alyx may turn around to look at him with confusion, but Barney twists around to stare at the red dot, tail swinging up.

Then D0G moves the laser. Barney turns to track its movement from the table to the wall, pupils contracting in thought.

He briefly notes the sound of laughter-- Alyx, Gordon. He moves the light in jerky zig-zags, mindful not to walk it too close to other tables. On the fourth zig, Barney leaps.

Over the table. With a surprising agility, as he clears the food-- and Gordon’s head-- with ease, landing in a crouch that lasts a split-second, abandoned for lunging after the red dot. His boots scuff the tile and his claws leave marks as he starts to run fast enough to make D0G jog him out of the cafeteria.

* * *

A few hours later, Gordon wanders outside of the base to search for D0G and Barney. He pushes open the gate leading into the mechanic’s scrapyard, careful to give the space a cursory check before wandering further in. It was relatively clear, but accidents had happened for less awareness, especially to him. He was surprisingly clumsy nowadays.

“D0G? Barney?” Gordon calls, cupping his hands around his mouth.

In the middle distance, he locks onto a single point of light, emanating from the depths of a gutted-out machine. Fear immediately curls in his belly and he searches for a weapon, anything, until a god-awful screaming fills the air, where it clicks--

his fate is sealed.

Two hundred pounds of Barney Calhoun slams into his torso, knocking him flat on the ground with a harsh cry.

“Barney! You’re heavy!” Gordon wheezes, thoroughly winded.

Barney sits on top of him, staring down at him with hazel eyes blown wide, tongue peeking out from between his sharp teeth. His ears swivel at the sound of D0G trundling in closer, bobbing his head in laughter. Instead of answering, Barney presses his forehead against Gordon’s chest, purring lowly.

Gordon sighs, rubbing behind his pointed ears, noting the more fur-like quality of Barney’s hair. He runs his hands down his back experimentally.

“Hey, Barnes? You good to talk?” Gordon says.

He watches Barney peek up at him, hair falling into his eyes, tail switching. Recognition is a second slow in his expression.

“What do ya wanna talk about, Gordon?” Barney asks, head tilting. He props himself up on his elbows, claws dug in.

“Do you… experience sensory overload? Do you- remember what that is? Sorry,” Gordon says, flushing as he fumbles his words.

Gordon watches his pupils shrink and eyes narrow, clearly thinking hard about the posed question. Then his ears flatten, claws sinking past the thin fabric of Gordon’s shirt.

“What’s it to you?” Barney growls, tail slapping the ground.

Woah, hey. Gordon blinks, caught somewhat off-guard by the reaction. He searches Barney’s face for some hint of an answer, but he was avoiding eye-contact and was otherwise… expressionless. Hm.

“It’s something I still experience,” Gordon starts. “Like my brain’s being attacked by sounds. It makes me anxious and I usually have to go somewhere else to calm down.”

“I remember that,” Barney says. He rubs his face, very nearly scratching himself in the eye. “Yeah, I guess. The medical folk kept mentioning it to me when I first got stuck like this. It’s whatever. Not like I can fix it.”

“And why’s that?” Gordon asks.

Barney, once again, goes quiet, eyes averted.

Around them, the scrapyard has quickly gone dark, the sun long since set. The last of its light could be seen through gaps of the treeline, but the stars overpowered it, as well as the chill of autumn. Tiny puffs of their breath can be seen taking shape in the air, mingling between them. It’s quiet, save for their breathing and D0G’s idling mechanisms.

Then, wordlessly, Barney rolls off of Gordon and to his feet in one fluid motion. His tail switches at the air as he leaves the scrapyard, disappearing past the gates with surprising speed.

Gordon watches D0G follow after him.

Huh.

* * *

The next morning, Gordon locates Barney in the middle of grooming Alyx. He waves at them both, suppressing a laugh at the unruly state the latter’s hair is in. It’s rapidly growing worse from Barney’s well-meaning licking. He sits down beside her, making sure to set a pair of earmuffs down on the sofa’s arm.

“You’re up early,” Alyx says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?”

Gordon shrugs, yawning. He tries not to focus on how Barney mimics the action, splitting his jaws wide. Apex angle. Predator. Christ. His tongue sticks out on closing.

“Well, good to see you,” she chuckles. “I’m getting my hair done, as you can see. I think you’re up next.”

He shakes his head. No way, his hair was too short for it.

“Whatever you say. Ow! Hey, why are you biting me?”

“Stop movin’ so much,” Barney growls, hissing at the resulting swats.

**Author's Note:**

> look upon ye mighty and repent. this is dedicated 2 everyone who didn't tell me no.


End file.
